Changeling (Completed)

Day Two

Day Two - Twenty-eight days left

Before I get to Day Two, just let me remind you that you need to read the Foreword. I wrote it. It's cool. Don't skip it, because it gives you valuable information. Mostly because I wrote it. Oh, and yes, I hear the wolf spirit talking to me. Most wolf-shifters (see Benji, I can be sensitive) don't hear voices. Ronson says it's more of a feeling, an instinct. Sucks for them. I'm just cool that way.

Love,

Innie.

P.S. Day One was really long. Don't expect that every day. Do you remember every day of your life? I'll even skip some days here and there. No one wants to hear about the day spent in a tree eating granola bars or that day I gave Benji diarrhea and... well, you get it.

Anyway... Day Two - Twenty-eight days left (for real this time)

I relax on the small bed. I know that Ingrid's body is weak and now I know why. I made Wolfie tell me who the worst offenders in the 'pack' are. It's actually pretty cool to have someone in my head. It's not as... lonely as a new life can typically be. Wolfie showed me images, (trippy, I know. There's a television in my brain!) There are three truly horrid people. Shana, Ronson's girlfriend, who was always careful to hide how disgustingly horrific she treated me whenever Ingrid's 'mate' was around. Her brother, Damien, who is an asshole, and finally, Nate, my cousin, who apparently hates that Ingrid exists because it's embarrassing for him to have her as a relative.

No parents, they were in another pack and sold Ingrid when she was six because she was an Omega. Siblings... unknown. Ingrid's mother and Nate's father are siblings.

I let the information swim around in my head. Interesting factoid about changelings, we don't really sleep. Ingrid's body does, but I'm conscious as if for those moments I'm separate from the body. I can't even begin to imagine what sleeping is like. Isn't it strange? When you sleep, what do you do? I mean, you're not doing anything, so what do you do?

I like floating, it refreshes the body but lets me think and more importantly, plot.

That's how I hear the footsteps down the hall in time to wake up and be standing next to the window.

"Ingrid!" Ronson's voice thunders as he throws open the door. "Did you steal from Hannah's room and make a fucking mess of her closet?!"

I blink as Wolfie jumps into action.

His younger sister. She's nice.

I see a face poke her head out from behind his furious form. Pretty cornflower-blue eyes widen as she takes in Ingrid's room. She looks more shocked when she sees me. I had taken off the plaid shirt earlier before my nap to use as a pillow because Ingrid doesn't have a pillow! The sister's short-sleeved shirt ('cause I'm guessing by the fuming Ronson's accusations that it was her room I trashed earlier in my bid for clothes) reveals my arms. My nasty, pale, too-skinny arms with scars and red marks up and down.

"Ingrid?" Ronson's eyes roam my body with a look of concern, almost fear, deep in his eyes. "You cut your hair," Ronson mumbles. Stupidly, if you ask me. I need to remember to ask Wolfie if werewolves are dumb. On second thought, I'll pass on that question.

I spare him only a short glance before turning back to Hannah. "I'm sorry I made a mess in your room, sweetie," I coo at her. She smiles tentatively, her gaze still darting around the hovel Ingrid has lived in since she was six before returning to stare at me. "I hope you don't mind that I took your clothes. You have so many, I figure that you wouldn't even have noticed they were gone if I didn't make a mess." I smile, real damn big, with absolute saccharine sweetness. Miss blue-eyes can't possibly be as sweet and innocent as she looks. After all, Ingrid looks super-sweet, but it's me inside now.